The Riding Master (26 page)

The crowds were thickest in this room, hovering over silver chaffing dishes set out on the two kitchen islands, and clustered in groups as black tie wait staff served hors d’oeuvres on silver platters.

“There they are,” Trent pronounced to be heard over the noise of the other guests, and then began pulling Rayne toward one of the kitchen islands.

Rayne’s eyes settled on an attractive older gentleman standing next to the counter with his arm around the waist of a very petite woman with an upswept coif of dirty-blonde hair.

The woman had pale, almost translucent skin, an oval face, rosy cheeks, and sleek cheekbones that complemented her small pink mouth and daintily curved jaw. Her pleated light red gown reminded Rayne of a Greek statue. It attached at one shoulder, clung to her trim waist, and fanned out into a cascade of sweeping material that gathered behind her in a small train. The thick gold bead and diamond choker about her slender neck made Rayne raise her hand to her woefully inadequate emerald and diamond necklace. It was one of the few expensive pieces Foster had given her for their fifth wedding anniversary.  

The handsome man beside the elegant blonde laughed at something one of his guests had said, and then discretely rubbed his hand over his chin, attempting to hide his cocky grin. When his eyes pivoted about the room, he spotted Trent, and his grin spread into a sincere smile.

“Trent,” he shouted in a friendly tone.

“Tyler Moore,” Trent whispered to Rayne.

Attired in a black Armani tuxedo that shimmered beneath the recessed lights above, Tyler Moore’s fit body screamed of grace, sophistication, and long hours at the gym. Black, wavy hair tinged at the sides with gray outlined his chiseled cheekbones, determined, square jaw, and high forehead. As his deep-set, dark eyes lingered over Rayne’s dress, her stomach tied into a thousand knots.

“Finally, you made it.” Tyler Moore held out a tapering hand to Trent.

Trent gripped his hand. “Yeah, we had to drop Frank off at his babysitters.”

“Frank’s the dog that snores, right?” Tyler turned to Rayne. “Trent has told me quite a few entertaining stories about your dog, Ms. Greer.”

Rayne extended her hand, a little awestruck that such an important man would be bothered remembering stories about Frank. “Please, call me Rayne, and thank you for having me tonight. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you, Rayne.” Tyler tapped the shoulder of the woman beside him. “Moe, Trent and Rayne are here.”

Shady gray eyes turned to Rayne, surprising her with their intensity. Up close the woman’s beauty was even more breathtaking, and at the same time unexpectedly fragile. In that instant, Rayne was reminded of her sister Jaime. She had shared the woman’s coloring and captivating beauty.

“Rayne, I’m Monique Delome.” She offered a delicate hand to Rayne. “Trent has told us so much about you.”

Rayne shook Monique’s hand and immediately knew she liked this woman. Her warm, welcoming manner had completely erased the knots created by her husband’s disturbing eyes.

“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Delome. I must say I have a friend that simply adores your books.”   

“You must call me Monique.” Her attention shifted to Trent. “You have a very good eye, my friend.” She kissed his cheek.

“You don’t have a drink.” Tyler pointed to their empty hands. “Come with me.” He patted Trent on the shoulder. “I’ll take you to the bar.

Trent’s fingers caressed Rayne’s hand. “What would you like?”

“Wine is good.”

“Champagne,” Monique proposed. “You must have champagne. We have two cases of Bollinger RD for tonight.”

Rayne bowed her head graciously. “That is my favorite champagne.”

“See?” Monique waved at Rayne. “She is already fitting in.”

Trent displayed a proud smile. “I’ll get you champagne then.”

As Trent and Tyler walked away, Rayne could not help but watch their lean bodies sway beneath their tuxedos. Almost the exact same height, both men cut an impressive figure from behind, but Trent’s body boasted a thicker set of shoulders and much better butt.

“Good-looking men, aren’t they?” Monique spoke out behind her.

Rayne blushed slightly as she turned around, embarrassed that she had been caught staring. “I’m sorry, I was just admiring the—”

“Don’t worry about it. You wouldn’t be female if you didn’t look.” Monique’s grey eyes skimmed over Rayne’s features. “Trent told me you’re from New Orleans. What part of the city are you from?”

“Uptown,” Rayne replied. “My parents had a house on Second Street just off Prytania.”

“I’ve got a house on Prytania. Ty keeps bugging me to put it up for sale, but I just can’t make myself.”

“Do you get back often?”

“Not so much anymore,” Monique conceded. “Since our daughter, Eva, was born, I’ve been staying close to home.”

“Your daughter? How old is she?”

“Six months.” Monique gazed about the crowded room. “I was going to sneak away to check on her, if you would care to join me.”

Rayne heartily nodded, excited at the prospect. “I would love to meet your little girl.”

“Come on, but don’t tell Ty. He’ll just scold me for taking you away from Trent.” Monique crooked her finger at Rayne and then slinked away from the kitchen island, carrying the train of her light red dress in her hand.

She led Rayne down a hallway away from the kitchen, and as they went along, the noise of the party dimmed behind them. On the walls, Rayne noticed more old photographs of New Orleans.

“I love these pictures,” Rayne told her.

Monique lovingly smiled. “I collect old photographs of New Orleans. Keeps home in my heart.” 

They came to an ash-stained door at the end of the corridor, and Monique pushed down on the long silver handle. As the door opened, pink light seeped into the hallway. The room beyond was awash in the soothing light, coming from a single lamp set beside a pink crib with a turning mobile of pink and white angels above it. On the walls were painted white, wooly lambs, small pink piglets, doves, and creamy ponies, and amid the animals, chubby cherubs were tying slender red ribbons on the tails of each and every creature. White shelves on a far wall were packed with stuffed toys and assorted bottles of lotions, creams, and powders.

“Is she still sleeping, Trisha?” Monique inquired, turning to an older woman in a white scrub suit.

“She’s been sleeping soundly, Mrs. Moore.” Trisha stood from the chair she had set up in a corner of the room. “She hasn’t made a peep.”

Monique motioned for Trisha to return to her seat. “I just wanted to check on her.” She glanced about the room. “Where is he?”

Trisha pointed to a pink pillow on the floor to the side of the crib. Rayne lowered her eyes to the pillow to see a small dog with patchy white fur sleeping on his back as his pink tongue hung from the side of his mouth.

“Bart, my dog,” Monique explained. “He never leaves Eva’s room.”

Gentle snores could be heard coming from Bart, making Rayne smile. “I’ve got a snorer, too. Mine is named Frank.”

Trisha returned to her chair as Rayne and Monique crept up to the crib. The aroma of baby powder blended with sweet honeysuckle floated by Rayne’s nose as she peeked over the railing of the crib. Inside, a very small head with faint, wispy yellow hair was jutting out from beneath a pink blanket. The infant had her thumb in her mouth, but her eyes were closed and she appeared as peaceful as anything Rayne had ever seen.

“She’s been so good.” Monique stroked the child’s head. “Tyler keeps claiming that she can’t possibly be ours.”

“She is adorable.” Rayne regarded the baby with awe. “She’s so tiny.”

“She was early. Took us both by surprise. We had just gotten married a few days before I went into labor.”

The infant yawned and squirmed in the crib, then went right back to sleep.

“We’d better not wake her.” Monique directed her eyes to the nursery door.

After they had stepped back into the hall, Monique regarded Rayne. “Trent told me you two met at the stables where he works.”

“Yes, he’s the riding master there and I teach the children’s classes.”

“He’s quite something, isn’t he?”

Bewildered by the question, Rayne asked, “Who? Trent?”

“Yes, Trent.” Monique grinned, entertained by her response. “I met him when I married Tyler, but he has become a good friend to both of us.” She gestured down the hall, indicating for them to return to the party. “I may not have known Trent very long, but I have never seen him so confounded by anyone.” She gathered up her train.

Rayne fell in step beside her. “Confounded?”

“Yes. From the moment he first mentioned you, it has been obvious how he feels.”

“Has it?” Rayne shook her head, convinced otherwise. If anything, she was more confused than ever by the man.

“It’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Rayne hesitated, staring at Monique’s profile. “What is?”

“Trusting someone.” Monique slowly turned to her. “I was once where you are now. Tyler came back into my life after twenty-one years apart. We dated briefly when I was in college at SMU, but we never forgot about each other. It was hard when we reunited. I doubted his intentions and he had reservations, too. We almost didn’t make it, but there comes a point when you just have to throw caution to the wind and say ‘To hell with it. I’ll trust him.’”

“That’s good in theory, Monique, but sometimes hard to apply to real life. Scars have a way of tempering us, or at least me.”

“Trent mentioned that you were married to Foster Greer.”

Rayne gritted her teeth with annoyance at the mention of her ex. “For eight years.”

“I was married for ten years to a surgeon in New Orleans. Mat, my ex, ran off with an assistant in his office, so I understand how hard it is to trust again. We think if one man didn’t want us, why would another? But they’re not all the same, Rayne. Some are truly unique.”   

“And Trent is one of those unique ones, is that what you’re telling me?”

Monique started down the hall. “He said you were stubborn.”

Rayne followed behind her, suddenly intrigued. “What else did he say?”

“That you reminded him of me. We were two tough women who had made our way in the world despite the ruthlessness of others.”

Rayne smiled, relaxing a little. “That sounds like a pretty fair assessment.”

“Yes, it does.” Monique noted her smile and shifted a little closer. “Let him in, Rayne. He’s a good man.”

A tweak of suspicion cut through Rayne. “Did he ask you to tell me this?”

Monique shook her head. “No. I wanted you to come tonight so I could find out what kind of woman you are. Now, having met you, I can see he was right; we are the same. You just need a bit of reassurance that you’re not repeating your past mistakes. I guess it’s just the romance writer in me. I want to see every couple have their happy ending.” Monique halted at the end of the hallway, just as the noise from the party rose around them. “And if he asks, we never had this conversation. We Sacred Heart girls have to stick together.”

Rayne’s mouth dropped. “You went to Sacred Heart School?”

Monique laughed. “Your maiden name was Masterson. I was teaching freshman English when you were there, and I remember hearing about you. You were the girl who rode horses and won every horse show she entered.”

“I can’t believe you taught at Sacred Heart.”

“New Orleans is a real small town, Rayne. Always has been, always will be.” She turned toward the hallway ahead. “We better head back before they come searching for us.”

As they entered the kitchen, Rayne spied Tyler and Trent standing by one of the oval islands, flourishing champagne flutes in their hands and laughing.

“You two look like you’ve been up to no good,” Monique offered as she took the champagne glass from her husband’s hand.

“Where were you?” Tyler questioned, skeptically eyeing his wife.

“Eva,” she answered, and then took a sip from her glass.

Trent picked up a glass of champagne on the black granite countertop and handed it to Rayne. “You met their daughter?”

Rayne took the flute of golden liquid from him. “She’s precious.”

“You need one of those, Trent,” Monique assured him. “It keeps you humble.”

“It keeps you awake at night,” Tyler joked.

Monique nudged her husband with her elbow. “But you love it, don’t you, darling?”

Tyler happily grinned. “Absolutely.”

***

After they had dipped their fingers in the pool, explored a few of the trails behind the house, and sampled the chicken pasta primavera along with more champagne, Rayne felt her enthusiasm for the party waning. Her shoes pinched, her dress was growing uncomfortable, and her yearning for her favorite sweats and smelly dog were getting hard to ignore.

As if sensing her restlessness, Trent began slowly herding her through the crowd of partygoers toward the entrance of the home. “I think we should head to the hotel.”

“We need to say good-bye to Tyler and Monique.”

“Already taken care of.” He gripped her hand. “I told them we would be sneaking out later and that if we didn’t see them, we had a wonderful time.”